The Commander and the Specialist
by grumpystumpy
Summary: F!Shepard works to woo Samantha Traynor


"Any new messages lately, Commander?" Private Westmoreland asked.

Shepard kept her face neutral as she waited for the scan to finish. "Not that I'm aware of, Private."

"Seems like you get a lot of mail these days, ma'am."

She looked over at the cheeky woman and scowled. "Communication is key if we're going to have a successful campaign."

"Of course, Commander."

Why the hell did it take so long just to walk out of a damn room anyway? Why did the Normandy even need door guards? The exit finally slid open and Shepard entered the CIC. Specialist Samantha Traynor looked up from her monitor. "Commander, there's a new message at your private terminal."

"Thank you," she replied.

Shepard swore she heard Westmoreland snickering before the doors shut. Walking over to her terminal she pulled up the mail. Admittedly, she was more interested in the other woman who was pretending to be focused on her monitor. Traynor was usually good about not staring, in fact if it hadn't been for Shepard dropping a datapad one day she would have never caught the specialist looking at her ass.

"Anything interesting, Commander?" Traynor asked.

Shepard smiled and made eye contact with the specialist, "Not in my inbox anyway."

Traynor quickly looked away. "Well, uh. That's-good. Yes, excellent. Ma'am."

Shepard locked her terminal and moved to lean on console next to Traynor."When are you going to join me on the Citadel for dinner?"

"I-I'm not sure. I'm quite busy monitoring communications and analyzing data. Why just today I found the most interesting thing-"

"You have to eat sometime."

"I do? Well, I do, but I'm so busy. You'll have to take a raincheck for now."

"I can be patient."

#

Shepard leaned against the railing overlooking the Presidum lake from the Apollo Cafe. Liara sat at a table behind her working.

"Specialist Traynor!" she heard Liara say.

"Good day, Dr. T'Soni! I brought the datapad you requested."

"Call me, Liara, please."

Shepard suppressed a chuckle as she listened to the two making polite chit chat, talking about the coffee, how lovely the landscaping was, what kind of technology it took to keep the Citadel functional. To be honest the commander found Traynor more than a little intimidating; she was incredibly intelligent, too smart to be reduced to grunt work on a warship, probably too smart to get romantically involved with a soldier. If Shepard had any common sense, she'd be likely to save herself a lot of heartache and back off.

"Well, if there's nothing else, I'll be going," Traynor said.

Shepard licked her lips and turned around. "Specialist Traynor! Fancy meeting you here."

"I...what are you doing? I thought you had a meeting with Commander Bailey. Er, m'am."

"It was canceled."

"Why didn't Bailey's staff just update your omni-tool or have someone...," Traynor said. The specialist looked to Liara, who scrolled through a datapad; a smirk on her dark blue lips. "I see. This is entrapment, you know."

"Since when is bumping into your communications specialist at a coffee shop entrapment?

And, since we're both here and not busy on the Normandy for once, you should let me take you out for a celebratory dinner. Your work saved a lot of lives at the Grissom Academy, you deserve a nice non-mess hall meal."

Traynor raised an eyebrow, her skin flushed; she was even more attractive when she was embarrassed. "Entrapment."

"Enjoy yourselves," Liara said, taking a sip of coffee, a smile still on her face.

"Traitor," Traynor said. The asari chuckled in reply.

Shepard grinned, offering a wave as she mouthed 'thank you' to Liara, as the specialist fell into step beside her.

"I do hope you're taking me someplace nice and not just someplace for chicken nugget, or whatever the Citadel equivalent, is," Traynor said,

"Of course not. I was thinking pyjak burgers, something classy."

Traynor bit her lip, it looked like she was having a hard time maintaining a scowl. "You sure know how to treat a woman."

#

One of the advantages to being the savior of the Citadel was that Shepard could get a table at one of the finer restaurants on the Citadel at a moment's notice. Their uniforms drew some stares from the patrons who had decided to actually meet the stated dress code. She caught Traynor's wide eyed look as the volus host hurried to prepare a table for them. Shepard noted the specialist was starting to inch closer to her, not that she minded, as well-wishers crowded them. Gamely, the commander shook hands, even signed autographs, for several humans and turians, even after the host had returned to inform them their table was ready.

"It'll just be a few more minutes," Shepard whispered to Traynor.

"Take your time, commander. I don't mind."

Eventually they were able to extract themselves and the host led them to a table on the second level of the establishment. Shepard heard Traynor's gasp as the large windows filled with a view of the Serpent Nebula came into their line of sight. The commander grinned as they settled into their seats. "Impressive, isn't it?"

"No. Not at all really. This is so very, cliché, here I thought the great Commander Shepard could do better than a dive like this."

A passing waitress shot Traynor a glare and the specialist covered her face with her hands. "They're so going to spit in my food."

"The proteins will do you some good, bolster your immune system."

"Commander!'

"Do you want to go somewhere else?"

"No, no! This is amazing! It's certainly worth risking a little saliva for."

A different staff member than the one Traynor had offended came over to take their drink orders, mercifully. The other woman looked visibly relieved and Shepard wanted to keep it that way. She was awfully jumpy. "How is your new toothbrush working out? The asari one?"

"It's not my ProMach Four, but at least I won't be terrorizing anyone with bad breath; though maybe that could be the key to driving off the Reapers. Gingivitis and plaque could be the secret weapon."

Shepard chuckled. "If you want to get that close to a Reaper to breathe on it go right ahead."

"Um, well, I suppose I hadn't considered that part."

Another admirer stopped by the table, an older human male, to offer his support for Shepard. She smiled and chatted with him for a few moments about her thoughts on the war effort. She felt Traynor's eyes on her the whole time as she tried to make the various setbacks across the galaxy sound like opportunities. Eventually they shook hands and he left, giving Shepard the chance to take a sip of her cocktail.

"I don't know how you do it."

"Drink? It's easy. Hold the glass to your lips-"

Traynor smiled. "I don't know how you manage to find the energy, the strength, to spend so much time reassuring everyone that we'll win. You do it every day, for the crew, for the politicians, for these people here who were just looking for a meal and happened to come across you."

"It's part of the job. We need people getting behind the war, not running away from it."

"Yes, but you could just spout sound bites, yet you make the time to you connect with each and every person you talk to. It's quite admirable."

Shepard felt her face growing warm and it wasn't from the alcohol. "It's nothing," she mumbled.

"It's everything to these people, commander. You are a remarkable woman."

"I could say the same about you."

Traynor looked down at the menu, fidgeting with the plastic straw in her glass. "What do you recommend here? Or do they have you order off some sort of "galactic hero" special one?"

#

The geth were still has ruthless and nasty as they had been on Eden Prime. The enhancements made by the Reaper technology did nothing to help with that, though at least those improvements would now help with the Alliance effort. It did nothing to help mitigate the bruises the commander could feel forming under her hard suit however. She stepped off the elevator and Traynor did a double take; perhaps the armor was worse off than she thought.

"Commander! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine, just a few scratches maybe a lump or two. It was like a walk in the sunshine through a flowery field, just with bullets. "

Traynor walked over and took the commander's scratched and dented helmet, turning it over as she frowned. "If you say so." She looked up at Shepard and offered a smile that did nothing to hide the worry in her eyes. "Do you ever actually shoot any enemies or do you wait till their done emptying bullets into you?"

"I shoot plenty of things!"

The specialist's smile relaxed and grew wider, genuine. "Like what? The ground? The rocks? Maybe those flowers in the field?"

Shepard grinned, causing her jaw to throb. "I'd like to see you do better."

"I'm likely better than you I'm starting to suspect."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe."

"It's a date then."

Traynor's jaw dropped. "What?"

#

Shepard had to admit, the new addition of a firing range to the Spectre offices was a useful one. It was nice not to have to trek about trying to find a place that charged reasonable rates for use of the space. Additionally such facilities tended to attract every asshole in the galaxy who thought they knew how to handle a gun safely yet were lucky not to kill themselves, much less anyone else.

"Are you sure I'm allowed in here?" Traynor asked, glancing around the pristine room.

Shepard straightened, puffing out her chest slightly. "I'm a council Spectre, I can do what I please. Besides, you're on the front lines now; you never know when you're going to have to defend yourself. "

Traynor rolled her eyes, a grin tugging at the corner of her lips. "If you say so, oh, mighty Spectre. If this causes some kind of diplomatic incident and I get tossed out an airlock I'll be haunting you the rest of my days."

"I think you just want to see me naked."

"It's getting quite warm in here. I think-I think I should get some air."

"No, no. You're not getting out of this that easily. You probably haven't shot a gun since basic training."

"There was-one, yes, one-other time. A couple of years ago. They wanted to test out a prototype Carnifex; would have caved in the test dummies skull, except for the fact one shot took its head off at the neck. Poor George."

Shepard chuckled. "Poor George indeed. Come on, let's get started."

After putting on the appropriate safety equipment she pulled the modified Predator she used from its holster and, after running through a quick check of the weapon, loaded it. The commander stepped up to the firing line and precisely shot up the synthetic material that bore the upper torso of a humanoid figure; all of her shots landed in the middle of the head, with one exception.

"You're slipping, commander," Traynor said.''

"Let's see you do better."

Shepard handed the gun to Traynor. She watched the specialist step up, take a deep breath, and then fire a quick succession of rounds into her target. When Traynor finished Shepard had to admit she was indeed impressed. A vast majority of the rounds were clustered in the center of the head and chest. "Not bad. Here I thought a lab rat wouldn't be able to hit the broad side of a barn."

Traynor smirked. "My skill set is not limited to data analysis, commander. There's a lot more I can do when the opportunity presents itself."

Shepard rubbed the back of her neck and began a careful examination of the scratched floor. "I think if we changed your grip a bit you'd find your accuracy would improve."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, let me show you." Shepard stepped up behind Traynor, quite deliberately brushing against the specialist as she leaned in to adjust the woman's grip on the pistol. She couldn't help but wonder exactly what other things Traynor was good at. "All right. Give that a try," she said before moving back.

Traynor let lose another round of bullets, barely pausing in between shots. Retracting the target when she had finished, Shepard looked over the specialist's shoulder to examine the target. There were no clusters, bullet holes were scattered all over the target's surface.

"Guess I was wrong about the grip," Shepard said, inching forward; they were touching again.

"I was-I was distracted."

"By what?"

"I-I-I think I'm not used to the kickback from your gun," Traynor said, abruptly stepping away to examine the Predator.

Shepard took a step back, feeling confused and more than slightly foolish. "I see. Well, we'll just have to find you something more suitable then."

#

The e-mail had surprised her, arriving a couple of days after their slightly awkward outing to the shooting range. Traynor had been much more reserved since then, barely saying anymore than she absolutely had to when dealing with the commander. All of the previous signs had pointed to a mutual attraction, maybe Shepard had rushed things? Though now, apparently she was interested in having a "game night." Maybe this was an olive branch?

The commander mulled the situation over as she finished up some reports. She checked her e-mail again, and again, until she finally worked up the nerve to use the intercom. Shepard planned to take it slow, keep the mood casual, maybe even try and get the other woman to talk about the unease they'd been experiencing. "Traynor, if you're not doing anything I've got a few hours free. Would you like to come up?"

Traynor had arrived quite promptly, much to Shepard's surprise. The specialist was impressed with the cabin, particularly the shower; the general bathrooms were lacking substantially in terms of quality apparently. Maybe she could have Adams look into the matter, no, he was too busy. Perhaps the ever observant Westmoreland would enjoy a day off from guard duty to play plumber.

"In any event," Traynor said. "I thought you might be in the mood to play."

Shepard blinked, trying to refocus. "Chess?"

"I bought a board on the Citadel-GUI interface-not nearly as much fun as real pieces. But, I hoped you might give me some pointers."

Something in her tone was off. Her body language wasn't matching her words. "That's funny, I figured you'd be more interested in the shower." The words were out of Shepard's mouth before she truly processed what she was saying. Fuck.

"I didn't realize that was an option."

Shepard kept her face neutral. So, maybe the game was back on; and not the chess that had been previously planned on. She felt a bit bolder, more reassured. "It's an option."

"Well, just give me a moment to grab my things."

And grabbed her things she had. Shepard found herself sitting along in her living room, rocking back and forth in her chair. Who showered with the door open? What was this? Some kind of torture? Traynor was clearly more crafty than she had anticipated and Shepard felt more confused than ever. The commander hadn't expected the specialist to actually shower. Perhaps Shepard hadn't been clear in her intentions?

"Hot water and room to stretch, I could get lost in here."

Shepard shifted in her chair, her eyebrow twitching slightly. It WAS torture. Damn Traynor.

"It's like a week worth of stress is washing off and the timing's perfect, I was hoping to look nice for somebody."

She rubbed her neck. "Hot date lined up?"

"Hopefully more than just that, I play for keeps."

"Sounds serious."

"That depends on whether she's interested."

Was Traynor talking about her or someone else? Who else could it possibly be though? Liara would have said something, she certainly wouldn't have agreed to help her lure Traynor to dinner if it had been the asari. Maybe another crew member? But, then again, the specialist had invited herself up to the cabin and was currently showering with the door open. Shepard stood and walked quickly toward the stall, hoping she hadn't misinterpreted, and entered. "She's interested."

Traynor looked over her shoulder and smirked.

#

The cabin was quite warm, partially heated by the shower, amongst other activities not related to chess. Shepard would have to mop up the water, and dry her clothes, but she would worry about that later.

"I didn't expect you to be a snuggler, commander."

Shepard nuzzled the back of the specialist's head, noting the woman's hair was still damp. "I can stop if you'd like."

Traynor rolled over and kissed her. "Don't you dare."

"And here I had been worried you weren't interested."

"You were worried? What about me? The lowly junior crew member presumptuous enough to flirt with her gorgeous commanding officer. It was quite stressful."

"Hm. I'll bet. No wonder you needed that shower."

"You think you're so funny."

"Well, clearly I'm doing something right if you're in my bed."

Traynor pulled the commander on top of her, a wicked grin on her face. "Well, if you'd like me to stay in your bed I suggest you start using that tongue of yours for things other than snarky comments."

Shepard was not inclined to disagree.

###


End file.
